Why do I wrap myself around high fiction, thrillers, royalty bloodlines or even romcoms? Why am I so fond of movies and books that suspends me from reality for hours?

When I was little, my parents casually watch movies of variety. The pattern was random, sometimes its Jackie Chan or Marty McFly then the next day, my dad is marathoning Star Wars or Steven Seagal. And just casually, I would sit there and watch with them not realizing that I will come to adore movie nights than most of the kids playing outside with their barbie dolls and badminton things. Maybe they thought that I will pick up another hobby once I’m older but instead I became a movie buff even more so than them.

Growing up on the introverted side of the spectrum means having wants such as being left alone on my own devices. Hence the books, movies, diaries, collection of stuffed toys and mostly I spent so much alone time with my head- overthinking, analyzing scenarios and mostly escaping from the dramas of the outside world. I learned how to read between the lines and used my imagination to make whatever I am reading look like that of the movies. I fancied being an action star with a funny humor playing alongside Tom Cruise or Dr Emmet Brown 😂.

I can never sing or dance like my classmates. I sucked more on quiz bowls, athletics and painting competitions. I am not exaggerating when I’ll tell you this- I personally think that I am the most talentless person in my batch or my country🙈. They say some just bloom late. High school went by then college and here I am- same old talentless person only more accepting this time.

I’ve accepted that I can never wow a crowd with my singing voice. I can never be a math or a science genius. I can never make someone’s jaw drop during some pagent of beauty and glitter. At 23, I’ve faced situations that managed to empty my self-esteem jar. I gave and gave enough of me just so I can attract people to give me a time of their day. I cried and hated myself to sleep because I felt that I am doing things wrong since day one.

The thing about being different with your peers is that you feel that what you love is beneath and unimportant compared to what the IT crowd loves. I managed to catch up with the flow that I oftentimes forget about my own heart. When you are so busy being another face in the mob, I think what makes you “You” dwindles to invisibility. And alas, when you had enough of pretending and bullshit, you have no choice but to reach out to the real you to seek solace only to find out why you’ve been stuck in a conundrum in the first place-spoiler alert, it is because you think you are weird.

All I can say and would want to say to my own self- please accept your weirdness. Please accept that you love differently than others. That your point of views are different from their POVs. That your feelings toward a certain object would sometimes contrast or go deeper than the majority. Stop defending your quirks. Stop hiding your curiosity. You want to get the bottom of this? Ask. Overthink. Twist it like a pup twist the shoelaces. Do.Your.Thing

Dear Inja, let me write us a letter. I want you to do your thing. You’ve barricaded your inner self from going outside. Its like you forbid it just like Elsa forbids her ice. Don’t let it froze your wits. You may think you’re like Elsa but you are as jumpy and happy as Anna. Don’t trap your quirky soul in a prison cell where no eyes can see it, not even your own. If youlove to lazy bum and watch movies- go. Fangirl about the latest Thrones episode. Fangirl about how that fictional swoon worthy cancer patient guy loves his girl. Fangirl about picturesque moments and places you want to shoot with your own camera on your own angle of choice. Join forums and never fear that your thoughts are insignificant. Talent or no talent, we will back you up. You are your own person. We love you despite all you ever do is read, eat, watch tv shows, lounge or fart. If no man ever sees what a jem you are, so be it. You are a jem that is self polishing. Back when you are little, you tried to improve yourself a lot. You tried- you gave up – then tried again. Fast forward to many years later, you are still trying. I know, because I’ve been there too. I felt it all too. I am as confused and as akward as you. I am you. I am significant. I am weird. I dream a lot of dreams. I have galaxies up inside my head. Again I am you. Deal with it. Be cozy with it. 😏😉

I don’t have it together but I am journeying still and my train haven’t reach the destination yet. So till then, hope that I will come back awesome✌🏼

Being passionate ain’t just enough to survive in this world. Or should I say, any passion you might bare must be watered just like the plants on your garden. Water it, and it shall bloom heavenly, leave it be- you have a dead plant. When I say you need to water your passion, I meant with practice, love, protection and most often than not you PAY for it. I get it! You might say “Pay?? But being passionate is free of charge.” Or “When you really love what you do, you will do everything to get it- stick or stones.”

Nah, I learned it the practical way folks.I can vouched for myself when I say I am passionate with a couple of things. I maybe, in my own words- THE LAZIEST, MUNDANE HUMAN, but there are things worth getting worked up for. We all do right? So what are these things?

Books

Travelling

Photography

Writing

Can you see the pattern now? The things I am passionate about are overly hyped things. But nooooo, I didn’t do it because I’m a bandwagon fan(defensive 🤔). I do it because my heart longs to do those things as expensive as it may sound like.

I need money to do all those things. Money that I don’t even have. Be resourceful you say? Go to the library? MY FUCKING CITY DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A LIBRARY OR A BOOKSTORE. I love reading ever since my comprehension and reading were aligned. I borrowed books from friends before but now, I want to own them. I felt the need to get my own books. I own a tiny collection of 40+ books now but really, can we even stop? No.

Travelling. That is an ambitious dream. I live in a third world country. A country that is still so beautiful despite of everything and then I also have parents that don’t own a single wanderlustin’ bone in their anatomy. Locally, I’ve been able to travel to 4 places out of many travel destinations located in the Philippines. Internationally- one. That international travel was when all the stars met and shine down upon me. I want more. Can I have more?

Photography. Laugh if you must but don’t crush my spirits. I don’t own those overpriced and magical dslrs but I own mobile phones. I take pictures on it, and I edit it from apps like vsco. Mobile photography is a thing these days and oh yes, I can see post where photo enthusiasts look down upon people like me. I’m not ‘feeling pro’. I live for the cinematographic moments and don’t you just love it too? Yes? Take a photo. Get the memory. Don’t get me wrong, I love taking pictures way back then and again, let me emphasize on this– I don’t have the luxury to buy a decent camera. (In all honesty, I do think my gallery doesn’t look bad after all)

Lastly, writing. I don’t want to write a book. I want to read a book. When I say writing, I meant blogging and pouring out emotions into words. It might be because of insecurities (blogging insecurities- coding, editing and all) that I’ve been postponing these desires when I should have started many lifetimes ago.

So in conclusion, you get an idea, you obsessed about it for a while and you develop it from there. You become passionate about it. Even if you’re only passionate about eating, so what!? It is yours. All I’m saying is it gets expensive eventually. Or I could just get a fuckin job. End of story. 😅

No matter how passionate you are, it ain’t enough to survive lifetimes. You need to start and maintain it. You need your physical, mental and emotional abilities, you need financial support, you need to carve it on wood that you really like what it is that you do ( not because you want to join the bandwagon or rub it off on people’s faces ).

*All this long post is from hurt and anger. My mom said she won’t allow me to buy books I carted on the book depository 😭😪. I am a 23 year old jobless woman. I know, I need to move out already and pay for myself but the hospital I applied to is lousy at doing their job. I’ve been waiting since forever for them to call. Damn it 😒

I won’t believe myself anymore when I’ll say “This blog site is going to last!”

Honestly, the amount of blogs I started and left behind is laughable. Some days I want to have an outlet for my thoughts then totally ignore it for the rest of the year.

After the nth time, here I am again on a platform that offers me space to pour myself out. In my defense, I think I really do have something to pour out, its just that *insert lame excuse.

Without further ado, I am restarting here and now. I’ll leave my doubts, blogger insecurities and laziness behind. Who am I kidding, laziness will always get the best of me so,no big promises here -only me trying. In order to prevent my brain from overloading sensible to the non-sensible things I’m always thinking about, I will start decluttering. Half of the thoughts will go straight to the trash bin and some in this bloggery bin. So help me Zeus. 😄